I have again combined a couple of days diary into one post, largely since data and battery issues have prevented me from posting more frequently.
Writing on Saturday
After hours wrestling without success to get data on my phone working on Friday, I learned at precisely 5:03pm – just after close of business Friday – that a phone’s IMEI needs to be registered on entry to Indonesia before a local SIM will activate.
So I trundled back to the local Wini Immigration first thing this morning [Saturday]. After being bounced a couple of times between departments, it was finally suggested that Customs rather than Immigration was the right place to be for IMEI registration. The Customs team were friendly, but it took them a while and a phone-a-friend to work out what to do. Or I should say “what should have been done”.
Here’s the rub. On the day that you enter Indonesia, you can apparently register your IMEI with Customs for free, so that your phone will work with a local SIM. If instead you come back another day – even if that other day is only 2 business hours later – it incurs a tax to register the IMEI. At 50% of phone/device purchase value.
I have a phone, a tablet and a wifi hub with me. Half the new value of that equipment is… more than I can afford.
It didn’t make a difference that the customs representative even acknowledged that he “forgot” to ask me about IMEIs. And I certainly didn’t know to raise the topic. Registration hadn’t been required when I was last in Indonesia in 2018. It was an expensive, problematic miss.
There may be ways around this with purchase of a “tourist SIM” valid for less than 90 days (fine by me). But Customs thinks that maybe I can only purchase that tourist SIM in Bali. That leaves me flying blind on navigation, stuck for uploading diary entries, and limited to text (rather than voice) on Google Translate. Until then I’ll need to sneak in the odd hot-spot connection where I can.
I’m also still hunting for a power adapter, and unable to charge all my devices until I find one as the power plug travel adapter I have with me curiously doesn’t include Indonesia’s two-round-prong system. Siigh. And I need new clothes to replace those I left hanging on the clothesline when I did a final wash in Dili, too. Double sigh.
Writing on Sunday
Church was at 7am today, which must be the earliest service I’ve ever been to. A 6:30am alarm seems about right since it is right next door to the Wini home stay. Once I was up and ready, it soon became apparent, however, that I was an hour ahead of myself and my alarm had me out of bed promptly at 5:30am. This had me confused for quite some time, until I’ve discovered just now, some 12 hours later, that I crossed a timezone at the border Timor East/West border. I’d had no idea! And just to stretch out my run of mis-managed admin as far as humanly possible, I set the alarm to 6:30am while my phone was still registering Timor Leste time, before it automagically updated to a Timor West clock. So the alarm went off dutifully at Dili’s 6:30am – my local 5:30am. It had me a bit disoriented for a while. On the upside it meant there was time for breakfast before church, which the homestay served more like dinner – rice, veggies and deep-fried eggs.
One of my diary readers noted that I should be writing this narrative as comedy – surely that’s a “comedy of errors”. Mine has been a text book in what not to do while traveling. I’ll find my rhythm soon. Or go quite mad. I have most definitely not found my rhythm yet. Travel is still taking far too long as a result, punctuated with backtracks, timezone mistakes, and difficulties with banks and telcos. Most of that makes for yarns to tell and constitutes lessons to learn, hopefully meaning I’ll do better moving forward. I need a border checklist like a plane pilot:
I guess in my meagre defence I was too focussed on the border vaccine question to afford enough attention to minor admin questions like travel funds or communication. Who needs money or a phone anyway?!? (Spoiler… I do!)
After church this morning I packed up the homestay with an intention of riding just a couple of hours towards West Timor’s capital Kupang, keen to keep it within a “rest day” context. It was pleasant riding, with spectacular mountain-scapes and a few notable first impressions of Indonesia’s West Timor:
I said “it was pleasant riding” which is largely true… but doesn’t tell the whole story. I lost a few hours with a mishap that will need to stay out of the public record for now. Among other things this involves a little hurt pride, some lessons (re-)learned, and some damage to the bike’s panniers that I’m still working out how to repair. There are several ways this could have been a major problem, and I’m very glad to have this comfortably in the history books with no impact thereafter.
On the upside, two scooters carrying 4 English-speaking medical students pulled up to check on the guy reloading panniers in the middle of a wet-season downpour. I suspect they may have been disappointed to find no medical needs on which to practice, but we’ve ended up making friends anyway. In fact we pulled in to one of their parent’s homes for a break and a drink together in the Soe region half way through their ride to Kupang. I’d originally planned to find somewhere private around here to set up my tent for the night, but the break and drink morphed into an offer to stay with the parents tonight, which I’ve gratefully accepted. I have had the privilege of praying with this generous Christian family tonight as well, which turned into our own mini church service. As the visiting foreigner I was even “asked” (with only one acceptable answer) to provide an on-the-spot sermonette, translated as I shared. So often it produces beautiful outcomes to stay open to life and follow what unfolds without agenda or preconception. That’s not my natural posture, but I’m learning the rhythm slowly.
It is easy for any of us to say that “everyone carries scars and wounds”. I’ve been brought up close with that reality quite a bit already on this fledgling road trip, and tasting is different to saying. It puts life in perspective. The matriarch of tonight’s home, called Christian, explained that her husband had a stroke five years back which has thrown their otherwise successful, in-control life into turmoil. Erlyn’s parents from last night’s home stay have recently separated and divorced. Each of the houseguests at my Dili residence bear life-shaping scars. The list goes on and on. Scratch beneath the surface and I think we all carry deep pain. In fact if you’re my one friend or diary-reader who doesn’t think that applies to you, then I would have to ask if you’re really being honest with yourself?! There’s no scenario in which we avoid a life of pain, but only a path of learning how to walk with a limp. With that in mind, I guess my road trip is a bit of metaphorical physiotherapy. May we all find hope and joy as we learn to limp.
On a less philosophical note, tomorrow (Monday) I intend to:
)It’ll be a busy day.
Writing Monday:
ANZ Bank remains completely unresponsive. As far as help from my bank is concerned, I could still be cashless, stuck without fuel, hungry without food, and in really a lot of trouble. But on the upside, after trying a range of other banks, I now know that:
A local phone SIM has been more difficult. After getting nowhere at the Indonesian border, or in the border village Wini, I then checked with the major telco in a second-tier town a couple of hours ride on from Wini. They understood the problem, and agreed with the proposed solution – to buy a “tourist SIM” and register my phone IMEI against that. So we tried. And failed. It was the CSR’s first need to help a tourist, and here too he was phoning a friend. In the end he said “maybe try our office in Kupang”. It’s where I was going anyway, another 3 hours’ riding along winding country roads. Kupang is the largest West Timor city, with the port for ferries to Flores.
First stop Telkomsel office on arrival in Kupang. And finally this afternoon [Monday] I think I have a more believable story on IMEI registration. The Government system that registers foreign IMEIs has apparently been broken since March 1st. And there is no estimated time for a fix. That simply means I cannot use my phone or hotspot in Indonesia. Period. At all. Ever. If that’s true then on the border crossing I was sold a yarn about why registration wasn’t possible, too.
Credit where it is due – Telkomsel Kupang at least identified the real problem. But did they have a solution? Well, they thought they did. I do not concur. They offered for me to pay about Au$60 to buy a new hotspot, which doesn’t have the Immigration/Customs issues my devices do. I would have swallowed the frustration of the stupidity and cost of that – except to use the hotspot I would need to download an app from the Indonesian App Store – breaking all my Australian App Store purchases! That’s not happening. At that point they just shrugged their shoulders and let me walk away, without any further help or concern. Maybe I’ll look for a secondhand hotspot that doesn’t have the App Store requirement, and doesn’t have the Customs hurdle. Sigh.
All in all that leaves me still with no local data. Which in turn makes me extraordinarily thankful that after five weeks of no Timor Leste Vodafone roaming, Vodafone finally sprang to (something like) life after the umpteen millionth attempt. So now there is at least a $5/day solution for very bad signal, slow data transfers using my Australian account. Without that I’d have been in all kinds of trouble. The Voda roaming adds AU$150 on top of an already big Aus phone bill otherwise sitting idle while I’m away; which is all just nuts. But data is not optional the way I’m doing this trip. So for now, Vodafone wins.
I’m in a dodgy backpackers for tonight and maybe tomorrow. There’s a constant screeching beep like the noise of a truck reversing. There’ll be ear plugs tonight. The room is cramped and bathroom as awful as most I’ve had the privilege to use here – another “no loo paper” Asian style loo. And for all that, it isn’t anywhere near as cheap as was promised. Oh well. Camping isn’t a possibility in town of course, and I need to be close to shops for a range of activities including bike pannier repair.
I asked at the backpacker counter through Google Translate if they had a power adapter I could borrow, or knew where I could buy one. Long story short someone has just volunteered to go and buy one for me. I have just handed over IRP$50.000 (about AU$5 – no big deal) and my Australian power plug (I’m a bit more precious about that!), to a complete stranger who I may never see again. But in this context it sits better to assume a level of trust, which has been a worthwhile approach 100% of the time so far. As I write, I’m still waiting to see if that bet pays off this time. One day it will fail and I’ll just have to roll with the punches, hopefully with some appropriate risk management along the way.
An hour or so later…
I did a few cartwheels (no, sorry; not literally) when my brand new cable was hand delivered, meaning I can now charge all my electronics directly out of an Indonesian socket. Oooh that is such a relief! No more juggling battery packs and prioritising one device over another. I’ve just eaten dinner at the local restaurant recommended by the same lady, too. My stomach is satiated and my wallet a whole AU$3 lighter. And my devices all charging while I ate. 
As with the previous post, I will need to come back to add photos. And video is lagging further behind. But I need to do some organising now and I’m exhausted, so I’ll publish this, get my things sorted, and hit the sack early. Tomorrow has a long list of things to do that didn’t happen today.
Just shoot us your email. Thanks. :-)
Join me as this bike and I attempt to ride from Melbourne Australia all the way through to London UK in search of hope.
